The Truth Revealed
by Believe-to-Achieve
Summary: She dreams big. He'd do anything for her. But when she suspects that he fell out of love with her, she runs off to achieve a new goal. Years have passed and his love grew for her even more. The problem is, he never knew how to express it. Join them on their journey to discover that it doesn't matter who you are to make any amount of difference; you can when you believe to achieve.
1. Chapter 1: Her

The harsh slam of the door echoed throughout the hollow house. I used to be left in a shock and cringe at it, but now I don't. And I hate the fact that it doesn't scare me now. The first time I got used to something unusual was when he was whispering his affection to me. I was uncomfortable at first by his silly romantic ways, but I got used to it. It never ceased to make me blush full of happiness. Now it faded into screams with disgust etched in his voice, the one that used to soothe me through my rough moments. It drives me crazy to how I got used to his yelling, which happens more than our moments filled with love for each other. Now that I think about it, we don't have those moments anymore. My throat tightened as I let my sadness spill out of me. Before I met him, I was strong and confident, never letting my feelings get the best of me. He made me **weak**. I did fall for him, and I thought it wasn't weakness that he taught me; it was how to love. I'm not sure what I did learn with my time with him. I shook the thought out of my head, not wanting to make me much more broken than I am now. Every second ticking away at the clock, it just breaks me more. It's like a hammer destroying my vulnerable heart, as vulnerable as glass is to the hammer. I need to end this. I sped down the stairs and hesitantly grabbed a note pad and a pen that writes in blue ink, which lay across the translucent coffee table placed in the center of our living room. I plopped down on the nearest sofa and began to compose my letter. I wrote to him, planning on leaving it with my simple yet beautiful wedding dress, a picture of our first date in a silver frame, our marriage contract protected in a binder and most of all my beloved wedding band, with all of them packed in one large box that was meant for family keepsakes. The note reads,

_I am sorry about my stubbornness that caused our fight earlier and for the many other times we did. I do love you and our children and I would give up anything just to have one moment with you. I still would gladly lay down my life without hesitation for you and our children. The reason that I left is because we are different than before. To me, you seem like you don't see me as the most precious thing in the world anymore, acting like I don't deserve you, whom really I don't because I never did anything to deserve your selfless, caring love. I am convinced that maybe I'm not reaching your expectations that you have of me and because of that, my insecurities are coming back, the ones that say that I am not pretty, or brave, or kind, or a great mother. You used to say it was nothing, that I am perfect they way I am, that you would never change me, that I was the only girl that you see and that all of my insecurities weren't true, but now I don't know what you think. My first theory of love was right, that love does hurt you in the end. It all changed when I met you. You have made me soft and caring, and to see the beauty in this world. You have taught me that people deserve a second chance, and to know how to forgive. Well, I don't deserve another chance, because I kept on making the same mistake, and it would probably be my thousandth chance. I don't know how you have put up with me and how you have forgiven me on so many occasions. I am doing this because I just didn't want to get hurt anymore and especially not to hurt you more than I already have. I hope this gives you half the pain than what I expect that you will receive, and half the pain you would get if we kept on going on like this. I wouldn't give away what we had, even if it was for the whole world; it seemed like a dream to me, a dream too good to be true. And now it is too good to be true. I hope that you find someone that will make you happy, even though you said that I am the only woman that does, but I disagree to what you believe. I just make you suffer. I'm just trying to save you from hurting more. _

_Goodbye._

I was so cruel that I didn't even end it with the word _love;_ I just left him there. I didn't check it over again for perfection, unlike what I used to do with my notes filled with my devotion that I used to make. Those days are gone. I folded it up, scribbled my name over the cover, and left it beside my most prized possessions from my romantic life before. They were all organized on the coffee table where he can find it first thing in the morning. I could imagine his horrific tantrum once he finds this. He'll only remember how much he needs me when I'm gone. Maybe that would be true, if he has any love left for me in his heart. If only he'll be brave enough to leave his bed to check what I had made on the couch and not mope around… He will be a better parent than me, if I was left alone. It was dark and gloomy outside, the weather matching for what I am feeling right now. I feel so empty now, just like the inside of a box, like the surprising box he presented to me with a shimmering ring inside. That day, he kneeled right in front of me, at the tree we met at, and had this prolonged speech about his adoration for me and it was our death that we did part, that made me undeserving. Where did his love go? Now that box is full, full of my ring that I left behind. I wish I could be filled up with kindness and happiness, like what the ring is doing to the box. But, it's too late for that now. I try to indulge my focus on some insignificant item nearby, but it's no use. Tears started to blur my vision as I slipped on my hoodie and rushed out the door, packed up suitcase in hand, not knowing where to go. I scanned the area around me, to look for by watchers, but the streets where empty, in the middle of the night, just like what I feel. The pouring rain is covering my tears falling down my face, which are coming down as hard as the rain is. Similar to my vision, my mind is also a blur; I don't know if I should glance back, forget about everything and run into his arms, begging for his forgiveness of every despicable moment we had shared, because I had blissful memories with him, or I should keep moving on because of the fresh, new memories that poisoned my mind…

_I thought my last goodbye would be when one of us dies._ _For once in a long time, I am agreeing with him. Like he said:__** IT WAS A LIE.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Him

I woke up because I felt something rapidly shaking my body. I notice the light beaming through the crystal clear window, slightly covered with the cotton orange drapes. They were like the sunset. As I gain consciousness, I make out two figures hovering above me. Then, I notice the feeling of a set of small, stubby hands and a set of bony, long-fingered hands. I shift around, glancing at the clock that tells me it's late in the afternoon. My body groggily sits itself up, leaning my back against the headboard. What do my children want now? My eyes adjust and I notice the fear and concern reflecting in their eyes. I barely see that look. My wife and I have always given them the best life that we can give them, the best education, the best living space and they especially never yearned for love. Close family members and friends who would do anything for our children's happiness, always surrounded them. I have only seen it twice, once when there were ear splitting bombing noises taking place outdoors and when a mortified friend of mine that came knocking down our door. I really mean _knocking it down._

"What is it?" I mumbled.

Both of them took a short glance at each other, and then looked back at me with a pained look visible in their eyes that tears my heart. I would do anything to take that look away.

"Where did mommy go?"

They both spoke in unison. Their eyes started to water, and I am sure mine did too. After my two children finished speaking, memories of last night come flooding back to me. How I slammed our bedroom door shut, keeping both of us separated. Really, it was just a door in-between us, plus an added few feet, but it felt that it was miles keeping us separated, and different galaxies apart. I was not much of a morning person, always the last to get up, except I ignored that fact right now and focused on what was a million-times more important.

_Where is she?_

I threw off the sheets of the bed, not caring where it lied right now. If I weren't worried right now, it would be funny that a neat freak like me did an action like that. My legs sped down the hallways of our compartment, with her name frantically called out from my lips, not even a few seconds separated from the next time I shouted out. I tried the two bathrooms, the kitchen, and our children's bedroom, even the puny closet at the corner of our house. My results were fruitless. To everyone else, my voice was the loudest sound at this current moment. To me, I can only hear the rapid beating of my heart, which vibrated throughout my entire body. I checked in every single room, not missing a single detail and rummaged in there. I was a maniac, just like a vicious, starving animal hunting down its prey. Every time I didn't find her, every time my conclusions were vain, my hope wore out. Little by little it did. I was left breathless from my search, and now I have checked almost every, single room except…

_The living room!_

Once I finished those last three words, I was already there. My heart sunk at the sight. Scratch that, because that was an understatement. There were no words for what emotions were going through me. Step by step, I walked over to the couch and the mysterious box. At the time I reached my destination, an unwanted but needed destination, I then took the lid with my trembling hands and slowly uncovered the box. The first item that my eyes met caught me off-guard.

_It was the framed photo of our first date._

At first I was giddy at the thought that she planned something special, and the feeling became stronger as I searched through the box and found other memoirs that were highly prized, but I found a folded sheet of paper with her name sketched all over the top. I took it and opened it up and I didn't expect to see what she has written and made for me. I read the letter, never leaving one word unnoticed, and then my muscles tensed up at the very last word…

_Goodbye_

I immediately checked the back to see if there was anything else that she wrote, but I was left with a blank, untouched side. Exactly like that side of the paper, my mind was blank. I couldn't process the sorrowful weeping of children behind me.

_Physically and emotionally, __**MY WORLD BECAME DARK.**_


	3. Chapter 3: Her

I sat on the soft velvet cushions there, on the train I boarded literally on the last minute, with my face void of emotion as I leaned my head against my right side and stared out the window. There I see were faint and unclear figures of the buildings as the train darted by the foggy visions. I have been here for a day now. It's been a day since the _incident._ I didn't want to, but my thoughts always went back to the inevitable. Everything reminded me of him: The flower set on my table that was the exact one he gave as he congratulated me on my victory; I never failed to notice the flush pink color that tinted his cheeks as I asked him that he never did this with others. Also the orange sunset, fading into a darker shade as it sets across the horizon. Beautiful. It was his favorite color. He used to describe it that its beauty mesmerized him. What made me much guiltier was that the sunset reminded him of me; my beauty, on the inside and out, always fascinated him. The mother being over-protective of her child located a few seats in front of me. I was reminded how together, him and I, we tried to gain peace in this cruel, sadistic world. Most of our brave, courageous, selfless friends joined in too. They didn't want all the glory coming to me, especially that I was some icon to the public. My husband and I did everything in our power that our children did not live the harsh life that we lived through. The innocent don't deserve to experience the pain.

Now the consequences of what I have done impact me like a flood washed over me; a huge amount came all of a sudden.

_I left._

_I promised him that I'd stay, but I didn't keep it._

_I left him._

But, this time, my actions weren't just in the heat of the moment. They were regret building up in me over time. Still, I know I could have handled this better.

_Or can I?_

I was never really the one who faced dreadful situations head on. I was a coward and ran away to hide until someone fixed the problem for me. There only two reasons that I would face a problem.

One, I would do it if I was forced.

Two, I would especially do it for family.

Except, in this current circumstance, this was about family. This is so confusing.

I groaned out loud, maybe much too loud because of the snapping heads and glares heading toward me, because of what I had to deal with eventually. With my head wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn't notice the presence of a person, anxiously waiting beside me.

"Anything to dine on for this evening ma'am?"

That high-pitched, singsongy voice caught my attention. I recognized it. I probably recognized it too well. My head took itself off of the window, straitened my frame, and then my head steadily rotated around. My gaze went up and met the face I knew for my whole childhood. Her eyes were a pretty, light, crystal emerald shade. She held soft, ivory skin and silky hair flowed out of her head. Not just that, she was the top five percent of our class and had a kind, selfless personality. She was a full package. All boys were drawn to her, but she never used that advantage. She always told me that she was waiting, waiting for the right one. Me, on the other hand, had dull navy eyes, tangled and frizzy hair, and had a dark, olive skin tone. I did study and did succeed, but wasn't open to many people, only people who I trusted and who were close to me. Back then I was desperate for someone to love me intimately. My friend here said she wanted me to be in her position. Not because of the long list of suitors available with a snap of a finger, but the reason that I'll think exactly like her. She wanted me to wait for the right one. 'Ha!' I scoff to myself. 'Yep. You chose your _right one_ and look where that choice got you now.' I instantaneously remember that my friend is standing there.

"Hey. It's you," I muttered, wondering why she was here and dreading the thought of her asking me why _I _was_ here. _A successful person like her wouldn't occupy a job like this.

"Hmm. You don't seem so happy that I'm standing on this very spot," she teased in a chirpy tune, "We were best friends for our entire lives."

"Wouldn't trade anything for a single second of it," I replied. Her response was a tender smile and she came down embraced me tightly. "By the way, we aren't best friends."

Her face falls and she averts her pretty eyes to the floor. They started to become glassy. After all these years, she still doesn't know I like to tease her?

I say confidently, "We are sisters at heart."

After finishing my declaration for our friendly relationship, she grins from ear to ear and giggles. That same old giggle is still there. It warms my heart. Even when my day never went well, that giggle would enlighten my spirit, which was hard to do.

_He did that too._

Nope. I won't let that get the best of myself. Our whole lifetime, she has been able to sense what I am thinking about. Back to the beginning of our friendship, after one week that we met the other, she knew me like she memorized a book. I can't let her know yet why I left.

I switch my emotions swiftly, from bitter and distressed to untroubled and carefree. I beam back at her and she calls an assistant to take her place. The other woman arrives fairly quickly and my companion joins me by sitting in the cushions across from where I am sitting at.

"Why are you here? Aren't you a landscape architect? That takes in a lot of money. Plus, you plan weddings as a hobby. Why would you need a third job?" I finally let the questions out that I have been holding inside.

She lets out an exasperated sigh.

"My cousin had something '_important_'," she emphasized the word important, "to attend and I didn't want her to lose the only job she had, so… you can guess the rest." She uses her hands to signal herself as the result of her cousin not coming to work. Her hands wave all over her prim, attendant outfit to gesture that she had to take her cousin's job.

"Okay then," is all I can answer.

The next topic she questions about is the moment I've been dreading ever since I reunited with her.

"The real question is: Why are _you _here?"

A million possible answers come to mind. I could maybe tell a white lie… something believable, very easy. I could also wiggle my way out by taking on a different subject for us to discuss about. She was prodigy in academics, but was too gullible when it came to fooling her. I can make her believe me.

_Yay! Here I was being a coward again. Great job for trying not to be!_

After a long debate going on in my head, I decide to tell her the truth. She gasps, when I finish, and tells me that it was out of my character to do that. I nod solemnly, not knowing how else to respond.

There were a few moments of quiet, awkward tension in the air, only noises coming from the passengers around us, and the screeching of the train wheels, before she speaks out of the blue.

"If you have nowhere to go, just stay at my apartment. It's nothing big and fancy, but it's not shabby. I'm content with it."

I was about to agree but she interrupts with her speaking, "You know me. I'm a designer. I design all sorts of things from the land, to interior areas, to clothes and even my own plates!"

Artistic ways was always something everyone noticed about her, if you've been going around with her for a while. She was drawn to it, ever since I've met her. She would always make my outfits for everything that we did and she even designed my home. Not that I regret it. It was a very… what's the right word... interesting experience, but it was amusing also. I got a good laugh at it too.

I once again try to nod my head and was never interrupted. She leaned over and enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug.

Her face contorts in bewilderment, when she tries to remember what she had to tell me, and then in an instant, the expression on her face changes once she remembers.

Her voice was hurried, "There's someone living with me, someone you know. I'm telling you now, so you won't be surprised."

Before I can question whom this mystery person living in her house is, the train halts to a stop. You can hear the screeches of the wheels and both of us lunge forward, the cause of inertia. The ding of the speaker comes on and a monotonous drone fills the room, informing us of what stop we are at and the safety precautions. I carefully stand up, with my friend helping me, and I grab my suitcase from the storage area that lies above our heads. Once I have it, the zip of the handle occurs when I pull it out. My friend leads the way and I follow her, with my suitcase rolling behind me. I soon figure out that our destination is the parking lot and I remember that I don't have to follow my original plan of going to take a bus, since I already have a ride. We eventually get to her car, which was glimmering with water from the rainfall and the moonlight reflecting off of it.

She takes my suitcase to the trunk and I take a seat beside the driver's. After fixing the trunk to make room, she joins me and buckles herself up. The keys are needed to start it up, so I guess that's what she's rummaging through her purse for. Ultimately, she has it but in the outcome, she dropped a few items that scattered around her feet. Okay, maybe more than a few. Also in the outcome, the act created a very troubled girl next to me.

An exasperated sigh was let out, afterward a hand picking it up and placing it in her purse.

That was an understatement.

She was violently tossing the items into it.

Out of boredom, I twiddled my fingers, noticing the familiar and comforting weight of my wedding band missing from my ring finger. Soon, she was finished from her task and I heard the rumble of the engine starting up.

My eyes started to droop and I found myself hard to keep up. I let the world fade away.

I woke up from a piercing screech of a voice and jumped up from my seat without delay. I had forgotten about my belt, so a painful groan escaped my lips as the seat belt forcefully pulled me back. I undid the belt and got up, while clutching the area where the impact was at its worst.

While I limply made my way to the door, I noticed a shadow of a person with a strong build inside the apartment I am supposed to be at. Reaching the front of the door, I inhaled a deep breath, preparing my self for the challenges that may come, and pressed the doorbell. A brief chime resonated through the domain.

The door swung open and the face of my friend did not greet me. No, it was _he _who answered_. _He smirked at his effect on me; probably I am wearing a mask of shock on me.

_He _was the one who I once loved.

_He _was the one who I left before.

But, get this.

**_He is not the father of my children. He is the complete opposite._**


	4. Chapter 4: Him

In the cold, frosty night, with the ebony sky void of any dotted stars and the moon completely covered by the dull clouds, I sat outside on our front porch without a second in the world that my thoughts trailed off from her.

My mind always thought:

How long will she be gone?

Even if we were separated caused by our bickering, and that we weren't on great terms, I still missed her.

I missed her gleaming smile.

I missed how her face glows every time I surprised her with a multitude of pecks each morning.

Even the things that she sees as "imperfections" like her impulsiveness or her confident but stubborn attitude, I wanted it all back.

And what hurts me the most is that she never got to know that. After all these years, I never spoke one about it, not even a single peep. I wasn't the one up for words, not for politics; I'm the kind who takes action. She left thinking that she was just like a second choice, like she was just what I was left with and she was better than having nobody.

No, I could never even survive without her near, that half of me was missing if I wasn't with her, that I was dying inside at this moment, never getting to know if she went through some sort of agonizing and painful incident.

I have my children.

Yes I do have them, but there's conflict with that.

One, I think having them reminds me I have something, some reason to live on, but looking at them makes me think about her and my heart aches even more.

What would I do if she comes back?

_If_ she comes back.

I used to have so much hope that I used to think, _When, when will she come back?_ But time has passed and over that, _what_ morphed into _if._

The next day, I went to volunteer at a daycare, the some one that I enrolled my youngest child at, my son. Most of my extra time from when I am not doing my job is used with helping out there. My daughter's academy is located a block down from here, so she came along on the same path as me. I watched her as she entered the building, then I walked through the glass doors and was bombarded with many drawings of crayon drawn, no scribbled, by the kids who visit the childcare center. The receptionist greeted me as I signed in, tap noises coming from my fingers patting the touch-screen computer. I entered in the four-digit password and made my way to the toddler's room. There, I joined the group of children and welcomed by the cheering toddlers with many of them stumbling over each other. All of them gripped onto my legs so tightly that I couldn't move. I chuckled out loud, loving the fact that even though I live in the same house as him, my son shoved everyone out of his way just so he can be the one to hug me. I picked him up and twirled him around, like it wasn't two hours ago that he was eating breakfast with his sister and me. With a grunt, I set him down to the ground and he whimpered with the exhilarating sensation gone.

I usually stay longer, helping out with the kids' studies or packing away loose toys scattered around the room, but I took an unexpected call from the detective agency I work for. They need me, as a detective, to report to them immediately.

The instructors excused me so I made a quick goodbye to everyone. The door was gently closed then I went in an all-out sprint.

I made it at the station fairly quickly meeting the face of the Chief. She was in her late forties wearing a stone-strait face and a slight scowl. She had jet-black hair and starting to gain some gray streaks in it too. I formally addressed the Chief with respect and eventually both of us made our way to the meeting room.

We both sat on the long and narrow table, me on one side, and she on the other. She stared into me with a strait face, but for some reason I can sense there is hesitation. Her statement started, "Well, I have news to report to you about. I don't know how you'd take it but-"

I cut her off pleadingly, "Please, with all due respect, but don't beat around the bush. Just get to the main point."

With no room for argument, "We may have tracked the whereabouts of your wife."

One sentence. It takes one sentence to change my insight on things.

_When she comes back._

By now I have practically jumped to my feet and toppled over her. I have to use everything in my power to not shake the Chief senseless just so I can win back the solution to my unanswered questions.

"Agent!" She scolded in a professional air, "Even though we have developed a rather stable friendship over the years of your employment, I still rank a higher level than you."

To my surprise I gave a slight and somber nod, backed down, but didn't reign in my ranting.

"Where?" I asked, almost in a timid whisper. I was scared, scared to know what things that may dramatically change in just a few coming words.

"You have stated that she doesn't drive and that she never takes long walks, only when she has to. That would lead us to suspecting that she would take the train. You said that your quarrel of yours took place five nights ago around seven. We looked at the departing trains within a five-hour radius and their security footage. Train ninety-six matched the description of what she wore that night, her coat and her suitcase. She later met a young woman who seemed to be known to her. Both of them left at the last departure. It's 686 miles down from here. City of United Nations."

Just a fragment of information gives me a sliver of hope. Most of the tension chained in my body is released and I slump back into the chair used for interrogating suspects.

Her addition to what she had said before cut my train of thoughts. "I see that this is a difficult case, but I also see that you are well, stubbornly loyal to her as she is to you. Do you accept?"

She obviously read my mind since she already started handing out instructions before I gave a response.

"You go down the hallway that leads to my office. Inside, there is another room adjacent to my desk. There is a drive located in the second drawer down from the safe. This drive holds all the files and the surveillance tapes on the train she took."

I did as she told me, following to the script. Holding it tightly inside my hands, afraid if I loosen the grip this would all disappear away from me, the information and the hope, I scurried back to my office. There, as I left it last time, everything was completely in line and organized. Sitting atop my mahogany desk was a laptop so that I could take it home if I needed to, a file separator that I don't need because everything is computerized in this generation, plus the one thing that sticks out in my eyes.

It's a photo of my family; my family that I have with _her._

I picked the cherished frame up carefully like it was as valuable as jewels and gold is to a millionaire or religion is to a saint. It _was_ valuable to me. With the ends of my fingertips, I traced the faces of my dearest children.

I spoke in a hushed tone, "Mommy's almost coming home."

It's been two weeks since I was assigned to the case of my wife and little progress has been made. Still, I haven't lost hope because this is my only chance at getting her back.

_It's my only chance at rekindling the fire we had. It's this or her never knowing how much she meant to me._

I'm not just doing this for myself, but also for my daughter and son.

Who's going to stay with them until they sleep?

Who's going to even out my playfulness with their own calm of mind and serenity?

Who's going to tickle them awake on birthdays, special holidays or maybe everyday?

Who's going to slightly scold them for their wronging ways, but still forgive them easily?

Who's going to hold them tightly when their fears do come true or comfort them through their own hardships?

Who is going to be that image of a _mother_, a loving and instinctually protective one? (In that case, I might say, an overprotective one.)

They need her almost as much as I do, because without her they wouldn't be here to this very day.

A tired exhale was let out as I carelessly threw the papers onto the desk, them scattering across. I collapsed into the cushioned chair that if it weren't cushioned, my backside would be bruised by now. I thought about this situation, while I pinched the tips of my eyebrows together in frustration.

All of a sudden, when my guard was down, a cadet came in a whirlwind. The entrance doors shot open so forcefully that it nearly broke down.

"Chief needs you to report back in Command immediately after this message," the cadet spoke in a salute, tired and breathless but trying not to show it.

I did as he told and went there in a rush.

Once I reached there, the Chief was facing the main set of monitors. She must have heard me come in because her reaction was to turn around and face me. The room is small and usually crowded, but now the only people are the Chief and two body guards. Including me, of course. Weird, she never needs them; especially that she has proven she could protect herself. Not that anybody doubted her.

"Sit," she declared without a hint of emotion traced in her voice. I sat into the chair closest to her that she motioned me to earlier. My jittering hands folded together as I listened with full concentration.

"As you know, about two decades ago you were in the nation's rebellion against their main Capitol, weren't you?"

She obviously knows this information, but it is stated in the rules that we have to clarify every bit of information we think we know. I gave an indication that I did agree to the fact.

"Well, for those past years there was a secret society that gathered hidden underground. They were a few of the Capitol's most loyal recruits. They'd do anything for the sake of it. So back to the case, they've been planning to it back. To threaten and start chaos they bombed a nearby city."

I questioned, confused, "How does this concern me?"

This took me by surprise.

"The Capitol is requesting you to go as a combatant agent. You would go undercover to find out more about the plan and possibly go into the front lines."

Now, I was curious. Something like this hasn't happen in a while. But I still feel like

"Unfortunately, you would need to quit your current case."

Before I can process anything, I feel two pairs of strong built arms covered in cashmere black sleeves. My body is pinned down against the table as I try to free myself with the flailing of my arms and legs. It's no use. She's smart. She knew I would react this way and that's the reason she brought them along. Not for her, but for me. It all clicks now. There's a minuscule pinch into the back of my neck as a fluid fills me up. My tautly drawn muscles relax instantaneously. The syringe is used for restless suspects. Funny, I thought, that I would never need it, especially that making one tiny white lie makes me extremely guilty and I don't do it anymore. She signals them to let go of me, but because they were holding me down with such power, I can still feel the pressure of their hands. I get up and begin my way out.

"What about your children?" She called back. I can actually feel her smirk because she knows she hit a sensitive spot in me. "You said before that you never want them to experience what you have in your childhood years. Are you changing your mind about that?"

I stop in my path and snap around. People seem to see me as a sweet and innocent young man, maybe as an angel in human form, but they don't really know me if I can't get temperamental. I do only for my family sake. They're the only ones I can actually keep my calm. "How dare you!" I growl, quaking full of rage, "You know I would do anything for them! I just can't go into combat; I need to make it back to them and watch them grow up! You can't change my mind on this!"

I begin walking again until she states, "Maybe I can. How about that the bombing was at the City of United Nations."

I feel the full affects of the syringe get to me as I collapse.

_Out of the darkness I hear her say,** "Send him in."**_


End file.
